


i took shelter (from a shower)

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: (hot chocolate runs in my veins), (no jokes), Cute, I wrote this while it was raining, Love, Love Poem, Observations, Ocean, Poems, Poetry, Rain, Sea, Seaside, from my balcony, overlooking the sea, with hot chocolate, wrapped up in blankets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you seen the sea? The sea when it rains? </p>
<p>Here's an ode to the sea, and a love song for the rain. </p>
<p>I'd recommend reading with a soft, warm, nighttime playlist alongside. Whilst wrapped up in blankets. With hot chocolate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i took shelter (from a shower)

If you have ever played underneath a huge sheet, holding the edges taut

and throwing it up and running beneath it; you will have some idea of what the sea looked like when it rained.

As if some of the Gods were pulling at the edges of the ocean, a silvery grey sheet with only a hint of blue in its depths,

whilst the others rushed about underneath it, disturbing the top of the fabric, making parts of it swirl and roll one moment before being completely still the next.

Parts of the cloth could have been described as crosshatched

whilst others swirled in completely spontaneous ways;

organic, I think is how art scholars would have described it, and truly there is nothing more organic

than the sea.

~

 

I will go into the colour, for the adjectives ‘silvery grey’ really do not do full justice

to the mesmerizing palette of the sea when it rained. So many different shades of grey,

the lightest crowning the gentle, low swells that seeming appeared out of nowhere,

the darkest, though still not so dark, following in the wake and coloring the depressions.

Grey is never the most easy of colors to describe, for there is a tendency

to link it to very boring things, but if ever

the color grey is interesting, it must be when the sea is that color.

There were times too when waves swelled outwards from a point, like

an undeveloped whirlpool or a gigantic droplet of water

plopping down into the ocean from the blackened skies above.

When someone leaps into a pool there are such expanding circles,

though then the splashes are flying upwards,

rather than raining down. Strange ripples appeared out of nowhere and

chased each other across the vast expanse of liquid.

Sometimes large patches of darker grey would encroach on the plains of lighter shades.

A rare boat - for who would want to be sailing in such unaccommodating whether? - left behind

an almost white wake that was quickly swallowed by the warring waves.

~

Perhaps warring is not quite the correct phrase, for they were not so much warring

as rolling against each other. There was not one flow, but many

all interrupting each other and consequently changing each others’ paths,

rather like how strangers have the capacity to alter the lives of other outsiders

in unforeseen ways. There was mist too, that seemed to hover

silently above the low waves. It was not a thick mist,

merely turning the distance into a blur, increasing only when it began to rain again,

for often the rain would cease for a short period of time to regain its strength before

unleashing the droplets upon the sea. In sweeps the bloated clouds were blown across the sky

and the water mystically reflected the sky, showed,

in ripples, the rush across the surface indicating from when and whence the rain was coming.

Rain is so unstoppable and it was with great expectation that one could have observed those magnificent heavings,

though it could just as likely have been the wind playing across the water

as a new cloud frontier riding in. The rain began again,

pitter-patter,

no,

more like a shower being turned on full

blasting down,

and the mist impeded until you could barely see the waves at all,

and the little indents of the droplets upon the rollers were but invisible,

and though they were tiny you did not think of them as such, because they just seemed so plentiful and powerful.

~

The light was grey, though you mustn't think it was flat, for it reflected

back off the raindrops so that your eye was drawn

here,

there,

to the flashes of light in the grey landscape,

the luckiest managing to catch glimpse of a rainbow hidden within those water drops, the color delicate

and easily lost.

The sea was in tumult, but not

clashingly so, only swelling faster, and more often, the courses of flow clashing more often and their paths altering more dramatically.

Sometimes the rain fell true, straight down, but more often

the troublesome wind interfered and the rainwater slanted sideward.

But that description creates an image of great movement, and if the sea was

anything, it was not frantic nor heaving,

so that it was as if someone had filmed the Gods at play and then showed it

in slow motion.

~

And all this veiled behind sheets of water

pitter-pattering down from the heavens,

as though the view were a photograph

covered by a shattered glass pane

in the photo frame.


End file.
